﻿Level Ten

by Pan



Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-06-15
Packaged: 2024-02-16 22:32:16
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,511
Publisher: mcstories.com
Story URL: https://mcstories.com/LevelTen/index.html
Author URL: https://mcstories.com/Authors/Pan.html
Summary: Lisa’s brother learns that she’s extremely susceptible to being hypnotized. Can he resist the temptations this discovery offers?
Erotica Tags: in, mc, md, mf





TABLE OF CONTENTS


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3



	Chapter 1

It all started with Elsa.

No, not the Disney character. Trust me, Elsa was _not_ happy when that movie came out. I imagine it was like being named Luke in the 70’s, or Elliot in the 80’s. Or ‘Smalls’ in the 90’s.

And yes, someone has already made the joke that you’re thinking of—that she should just ‘let it go’. Ha ha. Very good. Move on.

Anyway, Elsa. She was my girlfriend—my first girlfriend, in fact. We’d been dating for about eighteen months when I realized: I wasn’t happy.

I wasn’t UNhappy, I just wasn’t happy.

See, Elsa was a virgin. We both were. And that was fine, but a year and a half in…I was sort of hoping to _not_ be a virgin any more.

She wanted it too. That’s what she said, anyway, and I believe her. She said that she wanted us to ‘be more serious’ and ‘take things to the next level’, and a bunch of other crap that I really thought meant that she wanted to…y’know, make love.

Fuck.

I really think that’s what she wanted. But whenever the opportunity came up, she’d make an excuse. _Any_ excuse. And I don’t mean ‘opportunity’ like ‘oh hey there’s nothing good on Netflix tonight’ or ‘my sister and mother are out of town for a week’.

I mean, like, we rented a hotel. We went for a nice dinner. We did all the things to make it as comfortable and romantic as humanly possible.

When the moment arose, however, she’d freak out, and find a reason to bail.

“I’m on my period.”—sure, fair enough. No one wants their first time to take place on shark week.

“I don’t feel like the time is right.”—well, okay. That would have been nice to know before dropping two hundred bucks on a fancy hotel room.

“I have a headache.” “I think I forgot to take my pill.” “I don’t feel sexy tonight.” “I’m worried about someone hearing.” “My grandmother is getting sick.” “I think my dog is lonely.” “I have to wash my hair.”

Like I said, any possible excuse. _Any_ possible excuse.

I don’t think she was being malicious. Seriously. I think she was just freaked out.

Now, I guess I had a few options. I could have just dropped it, and prepared for a sex-free existence. I could have just dropped _her_ , and found someone who wasn’t going to freak out at the idea of getting jiggy with it.

But…well, I loved her. I really did.

I’m going to emphasize that, because I think it really helps explain a lot of what happened next. I loved her, and wanted to be with her forever: I didn’t want to break up, or cheat…but I definitely didn’t want to jerk myself to sleep every night for the rest of my life.

And I _knew_ that she wanted it. She’d told me, explicitly.

Elsa wanted me, and I wanted her.

So I decided to hypnotize her.

It was something that I’d had a passing interest in for years, ever since I’d found an old book about it in the attic. Before Elsa and I had even met, I’d read through a few chapters, and then mostly forgotten about.

The one thing that I remembered was that you can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do—hypnosis isn’t about brainwashing people into mindless zombies or anything like that. It’s just a way of helping people relax, helping them get in touch with their base desires.

Elsa desired me. I knew she did. She just couldn’t relax enough to get past her own hangups, and do something that we both wanted.

It was the perfect recipe. I mean, that’s literally what hypnosis is _for_ —relaxation, and doing stuff you want to do. It couldn’t have been more ideal.

Now, here’s where it maybe crosses a line: I decided not to tell her about it.

My reasoning was pretty simple; if she was freaked out about having sex, she’d probably be freaked out by anything that _led_ to us having sex. On paper, she might love the idea of hypnosis…but if I’d been honest when I suggested it, I guarantee she’d find some excuse to avoid it.

And so, unethical though it may have been, I told her it was to help her study.

It all started with Elsa. I just wanted to help her get past her own fears, and help our relationship.

But I guess it _really_ started when my sister found me reading the book in the kitchen.

* * *

“Oh cool, hypnosis.”

“Hey Lisa.”

My sister is about three years older than me. It’s a good distance—close enough that we have similar interests, not so close that we were always stepping on each other’s toes. She’s always been decent to me, too—she’s never been the older sibling who was too cool to be seen with her little brother.

How do I describe her? She’s blonde, short…busty. Like, really busty. Like, I’ve had more than half a dozen friends tell me that they’ve jerked off thinking about her tits. Thanks, friends. That’s _exactly_ what I want to hear.

(It’s not.)

I would _never_ tell her this, but I’ve always liked the way Lisa dresses. A lot of colorful sundresses—she used to dye her hair a lot, and she had a different dress to match each hue. Nowadays she’s too busy for that level of hair maintenance, but she still wears a rainbow of sundresses in a week.

“You thinking of becoming a hypnotist? ‘I vant to suck your blood’…?”

“That’s a vampire, Lisa.”

“Oh yeah. ‘Look into my eyes, look very very deeply, I vant to control your mind…”

“Why does he still sound like a vampire?”

“He’s a Transylvanian hypnotist.”

“Elsa says she’s having trouble studying, so I thought some hypnosis might help with that.”

“Oh yeah? She trust you that much, does she?”

“It’s been eighteen months.”

“Wow, really? God, time really flies, doesn’t it. Well, as long as she wakes up with all her blood still in her body…”

“I promise, I’m not a vampire.”

“I’ll believe it when I see you survive a silver bullet.”

I laughed, and went back to my book. If she’d walked away then, that probably would have been the end of it.

But she didn’t.

“Hey…”

“What up?”

“Weird question.”

I looked up. Lisa was biting her lip; I hadn’t seen her this nervous since she’d gone for her driving license.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…”

There was a pause, and I sighed.

“Spit it out, sis.”

“Would you hypnotize me?”

I tilted my head to the side. After another pause, she continued.

“I just…I’m having trouble.”

“With…vampires?”

She laughed, and the crinkles in her forehead disappeared.

“Focusing at school. If you think hypnosis would help, I’d love to…”

She trailed off.

I considered her words. She was right—hypnosis probably _would_ help. And it couldn’t hurt to get some practice in before I started with Elsa…especially since I was going to be lying to her about exactly what we were doing. If I was fumbling my way through the manual, it was going to be far riskier than it needed to be.

It made sense. What was the risk?

“Sure thing,” I said, and with those two words, both our fates were sealed.

* * *

I finished reading the book a few days later. It was mostly procedural stuff—the required environment, equipment, the phrasings of the trance. I was relieved to discover that it didn’t require a pocket watch or anything hokey like that—the book recommended having people follow your moving fingers, instead.

After practicing the trance in the mirror a few times, I was confident that I could give it a shot without embarrassing myself. It was pretty interesting stuff—it suggested that the first induction go for half an hour to an hour, with each subsequent session taking less time. The technique took people down through the ‘ten levels of hypnosis’, and the book detailed the signs and symptoms of each. Once the subject was familiar with the path to deep hypnosis, it was possible to get them there quicker and quicker, with the ultimate aim of having a trigger phrase able to bring them straight to level ten.

The book warned that if you ordered someone to do something they didn’t want to do under hypnosis, this would snap them out of it. The more off-putting the suggestion, the harder it would be to hypnotize them again in future—not impossible, of course, but harder.

Elsa had agreed to a session later that week, but to make sure I’d gotten the hang of it, I asked Lisa if she still wanted me to help her study.

“Sure!” she said with a smile, and so the two of us sat down that night to try it out.

It only took about half an hour before I got Lisa all the way to level ten. It would have been faster, but I kept referring to the notes, trying to recognize the physical signs as she slipped deeper and deeper. At level four, her eyes glazed over; at level seven, her head rolled back. By the time she was at level ten, her breathing was incredibly light, and her responses were so soft that I had to move closer just to hear them.

“How do you feel, Lisa?”

“Good,” she slurred—she was so deeply tranced that her muscles were barely able to respond to signals from her brain. Level ten, the book said, was for imparting suggestions directly into the subconscious. The conscious brain would never remember instructions at this level; it was a deeper relaxation than even sleep.

It was amazing to me that I’d managed to bring someone so deeply under hypnosis on my first time. The instructions had said that taking someone to level ten would quite often take three or four sessions.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“If I give you instructions, what are you going to do?”

“Obey,” she said, and I was shocked to find my cock stirring at her response.

There was something strangely erotic about having someone so deeply enthralled…even when it was my sister. She was so compliant, so helpless—I chalked my response up to the fact that I _still_ hadn’t got laid, and tried to picture Elsa in this position instead.

I was immediately rock-hard.

God, I couldn’t wait.

“Here are your instructions,” I said, trying to ignore my erection. “You are going to find it much easier to study.”

“Yes…” she whispered in response.

“You will be able to focus on your schoolwork. You will not be distracted. You are the master of your mind; your mind is not the master of you.”

My cock throbbed slightly at the words “master”.

“Your concentration will be stronger. You will pay better attention in class.”

“Yess…” she whispered, and her entire body twitched. I couldn’t help but stare at her huge breasts as they bounced slightly in response.

“I, uh…”

Her breasts were still quivering slightly in response to her tremor.

“You will crave this state of complete relaxation. If I ever ask to hypnotize you again, you will say yes.”

Honestly, I don’t know why I added that last part. The book recommended that kind of suggestion only if you intended to hypnotize someone again and again, and slowly shape them over time.

I had no such intentions with my sister. I was hypnotizing her once, to get the hang of it, and then I was going to focus on my girlfriend.

That was the plan.

“Yes,” my sister said, and again—the tremor. Her whole body twitched.

It was weirdly hot.

“When I count down from ten, you will awake, feeling strong and refreshed.”

“Yes…”

I counted down from ten, and my sister’s eyes sprung open.

“Wow!” she chirped. “Thanks so much, bro—that felt _amazing_. You can do that again any time, bro.”

She pulled my body against hers for a hug. I accepted her thanks and left the room, trying to forget the feeling of those huge tits pressed against my body.

That night, as I jerked off, I desperately attempted to avoid thinking about my sister.


	Chapter 2

My sister checked in a few times over the next few days, always with the same feedback.

“This is great!”

Apparently her focus had already improved, and she was actually starting to get ahead on her schoolwork. She thanked me so often that it almost started to get embarrassing.

I’d checked the book a few times, and it didn’t say anything about such strong results. In fact, it said that for lasting change, multiple level ten sessions would be necessary, which could take weeks, or months.

The book didn’t have a publication date, but it had to be at least fifty years old. I figured maybe human nature had changed—you know, smartphones and all that? Maybe it was just easier to go in and tinker with people’s minds in the modern era.

Still…if that was how much my sister had been affected for something that was _hard_ to do, I couldn’t wait to see the results on Elsa. Sex was a base human drive—by the time I was done with her, it’d be hard to get her to put her clothes back _on_.

* * *

“Hey bro! How did it go?”

“Hmmm?”

“Wasn’t today your first session with Elsa?”

I sighed. I’d forgotten that I’d told my sister when I was doing it.

“Yeah…”

“God. That bad?”

“Yeah…”

I slumped back on the couch, but it was obvious that Lisa was ignoring the signals. Instead of fucking off, she sat down next to me.

It hadn’t gone _badly_ —it had been what the book described as a fairly standard first induction. After about seventy minutes, I’d managed to get Elsa down to level five. The next time would probably take half as long, and get her to level six…

Compared to Lisa’s induction, however, it had felt like pulling teeth. Level five isn’t even enough to start imparting instructions; the book recommended waiting until at least level seven for that. Even then, you were still addressing the conscious mind, and so it would probably be at least a few weeks before I could get Elsa to the point where I could start convincing her to let go of some of her sexual hangups.

_Weeks_.

On top of that, Elsa hadn’t really liked it.

Lisa had taken to being hypnotized like a fish takes to water, but Elsa had clearly been uncomfortable every step of the way. After we were done, we’d spent an hour cuddling; I could tell that she needed it.

Not the kind of cuddling I needed, but it was nice to be that close to her.

“I don’t know if this is worth it,” she’d said as I was leaving, and a part of me wondered if she was right. In order for my plan to work, I’d have to convince her to put up with several more _hours_ of uncomfortableness, just so I could deceive her.

What a mess.

“Oh no!” my sister said, leaning in and putting her head on my shoulder. She was wearing a blue-and-white striped dress; it was a little tight on her, which meant that it _really_ emphasized her curves.

Her curves which were in no need of emphasizing in the first place.

“You know,” she said, breaking the silence, “if it would help to practice, you can hypnotize me. Whenever you like.”

“Thanks, sis. But I thought everything was going great?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, a dreamy voice entering her voice. “But, y’know, maybe it would help.”

“Help?”

“Yeah. I mean, I’d always be interested in improving my studying, and then you can practice exactly what you’ll say to Elsa.”

_I really can’t_ , I thought to myself, accidentally glancing down at my sister’s expansive cleavage. “That’s sweet, but I don’t know it’d help.”

“No problem,” she said breezily, extracting herself from the couch. “It’s an open offer!”

With a sigh, I tried not to think about how compliant my sister had been under hypnosis, how easily she’d gone under…

…those twitches.

Those tits.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, I put Elsa under twice more. She didn’t want to do it more than once a week; it was difficult to get much traction, but the book was right—the second time _was_ easier. After forty minutes, I managed to get her to level six. The week after, level seven.

That’s where I made my mistake.

“You like being hypnotized,” I said, trying to pave the way for next week’s sessions.

Her entire body immediately froze up.

“No,” she said flatly. “I don’t.”

It took me a few moments to recognize the signs, but they were pretty unambiguous—she’d jumped straight back up to level two. Twenty-five minutes of guiding her down the path to level seven, undone in a single sentence.

I tried to coax her back down for a few minutes, but it wasn’t working. She was too tense, too resistant.

Instead, I slowly returned her to consciousness.

“I didn’t like that,” she admitted.

“I know,” I said, and we spent the rest of the evening watching Netflix.

That night, my sister was waiting for me again.

“How did it go?” she smiled.

“Terribly,” I said flatly. This time, she picked up on my tone, and changed the topic immediately.

“I aced my exam!”

“Wow!”

“Yeah,” she said with a laugh.That dreamy look passed across her face again as she continued.

“Hypnosis,” she said. “Incredible. Are you sure it wouldn’t help to put me under again?”

“No,” I said reluctantly. “But thanks. Again.”

“Anytime,” she said, lightly touching my shoulder as she breezed out of the room.

* * *

When Elsa told me, I struggled to accept it.

“But…you’re eighteen!”

“I know,” she said sadly.

“You could stay here, if you wanted to.”

She bit her lip, and I could see the tears welling up in the corner of her eyes. After an infinitely long silence, I finished the thought for her.

“….you don’t want to.”

“That’s not true,” she said, but neither of us believed her.

For a while, I asked myself if it was the hypnosis. Maybe if I hadn’t been forcing her to sit down for an hour each week and do something that she didn’t enjoy, she would have stayed. Yeah, it would have been hard—she’d never lived out of home before. But we could have made it work. Surely.

Eventually, I accepted the truth: there was no reason for her to stay.

Not really.

Yes, we loved each other. But we were kids. Why stay in a one-horse town and struggle to make ends meet when you can keep living with your family? In San Francisco, at that. Elsa was a whiz programmer—what better city to live and study in?

It made sense. It completely made sense.

But that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

When I got home that night, my sister didn’t ask about the hypnosis. I don’t know if she heard from Elsa’s older sister, or if she just read it in my body language.

Instead, she drew me into a deep, soft hug, and then opened the bottle of whisky that Mom kept on top of the fridge.

By the time Mom got home from work, we were both pretty wasted.

I haven’t really talked about Mom much. She’s great—she’s kind, funny, and infinitely supportive. Our father died when I was one; Lisa has a few memories of him, but for me, there’s only ever been Mom.

When she found her two children drunk in the den, she didn’t get mad, or ask why we’d taken her booze. She sat down with us, took a swig, and asked for the story.

When I explained that Elsa had left me, she gave me the exact same hug as my sister had, and sat around for the next hour trading breakup stories.

Eventually, Mom went to bed, and Lisa and I were left alone, slowly sobering up.

“I’m really sorry,” my sister said, and I scrunched up my face.

“Sorry ’bout what?”

“I’m…I guess I’m sorry that you never got to hypnotize Elsa. Not _properly_.”

There it was again. That soft, dreamy quality to her voice.

“Why you sorry ’bout that?”

“It’s just…”

Without the booze, I don’t know that Lisa would have finished that thought. But her inhibitions were lubricated, and she pressed on.

“It’s the best. I really loved it.

“Really.”

Without the booze, I don’t know that my thoughts would have continued down those dark paths. But over the past two and a half hours of drinking, a thought had occurred to me: now that Elsa was moving away, I’d never get to fuck her.

I’d been with her for eighteen months, and I’d never even seen her topless.

Assuming I found someone else who wanted to date me, and assuming they were anything like Elsa, it would be _years_ before I even got close to losing my virginity.

_Years_.

And those two assumptions weren’t even guaranteed. What if I never found someone to date? Never again? What if I was doomed to a lifetime of jerking off, trying not to think about my sister’s wobbling tits, going deeper and deeper down the rabbit-hole of internet porn?

No.

I wouldn’t do it. I _couldn’t_.

I’d like to blame the booze, I really would. Because in that moment, drunk and lonely, I realized that I had an alternative.

I didn’t have to spend the rest of my teenage years a virgin.

* * *

“How do you feel?”

“Good. So good. So relaxed. Wonderful.”

My sister’s slurring voice made me so hard. Drunk _and_ hypnotized—the book hadn’t said how this would affect my ability to make changes, but I was keen to find out.

“Good girl.”

There it was again—that full-body twitch. My cock was practically threatening to burst out of my pants.

“You like being hypnotized?”

“I love it. I crave it.”

“Why?”

“I feel so relaxed. So wonderful.”

“Good girl.”

Twitch. If I didn’t have so much alcohol swimming around my body, I wonder if I would have creamed my jeans.

“You want…”

I trailed off. Think. Think.

When I’d told Elsa something that wasn’t true, it had almost knocked her out of trance. Lisa was deeper, and she was drunk, but it still wasn’t worth the risk. Right now, I could talk her into getting hypnotized again any time I wanted to hypnotize her. If I made her enjoy it less, if I made her resistant, I ran the risk of ruining that.

Couldn’t do it. Had to be smart.

“You like being hypnotized.”

“Yessss.”

“You love being hypnotized.”

“Yesss.”

“You will…”

I hesitated. Fuck it. Worth the risk.

“You will do anything to be hypnotized again.”

“Yessss.”

I smiled.

“Say it.”

“I will do anything to be hypnotized again.”

“Say it again.”

“I will do anything to be hypnotized again.”

“Again.

“I will do anything to be hypnotized again.”

Good. This was good. I could use this. I could…

Wait. Had to be smart.

“It feels great when I hypnotize you.”

“Yesss.”

“But! It might _not_ feel great if someone else hypnotizes you. No way of knowing.”

My sister didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes.”

“If someone else hypnotizes you, and it doesn’t feel great, that might make hypnosis less enjoyable.”

“Yes…”

“Better not risk it. Right?”

“Yes.”

“You love being hypnotized. Say it.”

“I love being hypnotized.”

“But, to be safe, you should only ever let _me_ hypnotize you.”

“Yes.”

“You will let me hypnotize you whenever you like.”

“Yesss.”

“You will do anything to let me hypnotize you again.”

“Yesss.”

“Say it.”

“I will do anything to let you hypnotize me again.”

“But you will not let anyone else hypnotize you.”

“I will not let anyone else hypnotize me.”

“Good girl.”

There it was again. That twitch.

“Are you enjoying your newfound attention span?”

“Yes. Love it.”

“Your newfound focus is because I hypnotized you.”

“Yes.”

“Good things happen when I hypnotize you.”

“Yessss.”

Full-body tremor. I watched my sisters tits bounce for what felt like hours before finally settling back into place.

“You will let me hypnotize you whenever I want.”

“Yesssss.”

“You will never question why I want to hypnotize you.”

“I will never question why you want to hypnotize you.”

“Being hypnotized brings you pleasure.”

“Yes.”

“You will never question this pleasure.”

“I will never question this pleasure.”

“To hypnotize you, I need access to your mind.”

“Yesss.”

“Your mind is mine, to access as I please.”

“Yess.”

“Your mind is mine.”

“…yes.”

There was a brief pause before she agreed to that one. I knew I should quit while I was ahead; I’d made sure that I’d be able to hypnotize Lisa whenever I wanted, with no resistance. I’d made good progress.

But I was unable to resist one final instruction.

“Hypnosis brings you pleasure.”

“Yesssss.”

“You will associate hypnosis with pleasure.”

“Yesss.”

“And you will associate pleasure with hypnosis.”

“Yes.”

“You will think of hypnosis when you pleasure yourself.”

“…yes.”

With a smile, I slowly brought my sister out of her trance.

This was going to be fun.


	Chapter 3

When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised to find a glass of water sitting on my desk, along with two painkillers and a note.

“This will help with your mouth + your head. Can’t do anything about the rest of you. -Mom”

I smiled, before remembering what I’d done the previous night.

Oh, god. No. No, I hadn’t.

The memories slowly swam back into my head.

I had.

I’d hypnotized my sister. I’d hypnotized my sister.

I’d hypnotized my sister with impure intentions.

God, no.

No.

What the hell was wrong with me?

_I was mad,_ I reminded myself. _I was mad at Elsa for leaving, and I was horny._

God I was horny.

Okay. I got drunk and hypnotized my sister. I hadn’t been thinking straight.

What had I told her to do?

I’d never gotten drunk before, and the events of the previous night were patchy. I remembered Mom had joined us for a while. It could have been five minutes, it could have been half the night.

I had hypnotized my sister. That, I remembered. I’d hypnotized her, and told her that…

God, what had I told her?

The exact words were a blur. All I remembered were a series of images—my sister’s tits, bouncing as she twitched. Her eyes, slowly dimming as I brought her down through the ten levels. Her slack-jawed mouth, moaning responses to my questions.

I’d told her not to let anyone else hypnotize her; I remembered being quite proud of that one. I’d told her that she was going to let me hypnotize her any time I wanted, that she wasn’t going to question it.

But what else had I said?

One chapter of the book had been about leaving triggers; words or phrases that force someone to behave in a particular way. The first time I’d hypnotized Lisa, I hadn’t felt confident enough to use any, and I’d never gotten Elsa deep enough to even try.

My plan last night had been to…well, they hadn’t been noble.

Had I left any triggers?

I needed to put her under again. I needed to put her under and check.

I needed to put her under, _for the right reasons_. That was my top priority.

Gulping down the water and pills, I started to formulate a plan. If I put Lisa under again, I could undo whatever changes I’d made the previous night.

If I hypnotized my sister again, I could undo the damage I’d done.

I closed my eyes to think, and the image returned. Lisa: compliant, helpless, vulnerable…twitching in pleasure as I hypnotized her.

No. I couldn’t trust myself. I was too horny to trust myself. Once she was under, who knew what I’d be tempted to do?

I needed to be less horny. I needed to calm down, then I could hypnotize my sister.

I needed to cum,

I don’t know if everyone has it, but sometimes it feels like there’s a tiny part of my brain dedicated to awful ideas. He’ll sit back and chill most of the time, but every now and again will pop out and make a recommendation, something that’s just terrible.

Well, not _just_ terrible. That’s what makes him so devious—he’ll make suggestions that are _sort of_ terrible, but also have a kind of ‘truthiness’ to them. Like, you hear it and think ‘That’s actually not a bad idea…’

I needed to cum, then hypnotize my sister.

_If you hypnotize your sister first,_ the evil part of my brain said, _then cumming will be a whole lot more fun_

* * *

I ignored my wicked brain, filled a tissue with my spunk, and went to find my sister.

Bad timing.

See, it turns out that I wasn’t the only sibling who had woken up horny. As I was lifting my hand to knock on my sister’s door, I heard her; panting, gasping.

Cumming.

Moaning my name.

I don’t remember what I said to Lisa the previous night, but apparently I had given her an incest fetish. Apparently I’d told her to think of me when she came.

_Or maybe you didn’t,_ the evil part of my brain said. _Maybe she’s just like you. Maybe she’s been secretly into you for as long as you’ve secretly been into her._

‘No’, I tried to respond. ‘That’s clearly not the case. Firstly, she’s _not_ into me. I did this to her. Secondly, I’m _not_ into my sister.’

_That would be a lot more convincing,_ the corrupt part of my brain responded, _if you hadn’t just cum while thinking about her._

To that, I didn’t really have an answer. Sometimes my brain will lie to convince me…and sometimes, it’ll just state facts.

God damn it.

Stepping away from the door, I made a few decisions. Firstly, I decided that I was in no state to hypnotize someone. Secondly, I decided that Lisa was definitely not in a state to be hypnotized. And thirdly, I decided that all of these moral problems were something for Future, Non-Hungover Me to deal with.

* * *

My mother was in the kitchen when I entered, cooking up some bacon. As soon as she saw me, she put the pan down and drew me into a warm hug. After a few, comforting seconds, she kissed me on the cheek and let me go.

As mentioned, my mother was almost as busty as Lisa. Even though I’d just cum, having those tits pressed up against me, in the state I was in…

It didn’t help with my confusion.

“Omelette?” she asked, and I nodded dumbly. My mind was racing.

I couldn’t believe Elsa was leaving. I couldn’t believe what the dark part of me had done last night, when I’d been drunk and my sister had been willing. And I couldn’t believe the boner that my mother’s hug had given me.

What was _wrong_ with me?

My plate was mostly empty by the time my sister joined us.

“Hey bro,” Lisa said casually, stepping into the kitchen.

I liked this. I liked the light tone of her voice, the fact that she was treating me like her brother. Which, y’know, I was.

I liked it a lot.

Nothing in her tone, her gait, or her stance suggested that she’d just gotten off thinking about me. Similarly, I hoped that no part of my expression told her that I’d just gotten off thinking about her. We were just two normal siblings, neither of whom had cum, thinking about the other.

Good good good.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to match her casual tone. “Good sleep?”

“Mmmm,” she said.

It was hard to ignore the lust in her response, but I tried.

She was wearing a blue nightgown over some thin white pajamas. It was an outfit I’d seen her in dozens of times before. Nothing remarkable.

Except the pajamas were thin enough to show off her hard nipples, and it was obvious that she was turned on just from being in my presence. God damn, I’d really done a number on her.

I had to work out how I was going to fix this, before it completely got out of control.

* * *

Lisa hit level ten in record time. Every time I tranced her, it seemed to get faster and faster.

It had been four days since the two of us had gotten drunk. For the most part, I’d managed to avoid my sister. When I did see her, I couldn’t help but notice that dreamy look in her eyes. She would lose focus slightly at the sight of me, and once I even saw her stumble as she approached me in the hallway.

If she had been anyone else—literally _anyone but my sister_ —it would have been incredibly hot.

_It’s especially hot _because_ it’s your sister_, the wicked part of my brain chimed in, but I’d shoo it away, and try to focus on something else.

It wasn’t hard. Elsa left that week.

From an eighteen-month relationship to nothing, in just a few days. It was hard to believe. I think I catharted as much catharsis I could possibly cathart in the night we got drunk, but it still hurt. Elsa and I spent a lot of time cuddling and kissing and remembering the good times before she left.

I didn’t try to hypnotize her again. What was the point?

After waving goodbye for the final time, I spent a day moping, and then decided to come up with a plan.

I knew I wasn’t going to do anything with my sister. I _couldn’t_. It would be wrong. It would be so, so wrong.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t take advantage of her vulnerability, her willingness to do everything I said, her natural submissiveness, her enormous rack…

It would be wrong.

The wrongness was something I thought about a lot.

So I decided that I needed to put her under, to try to undo what I’d done.

She agreed without hesitation.

“How do you feel?”

“Gooooooood.”

This time, it was impossible to ignore the lust in my sister’s voice. Her slur was more of a moan; you could practically feel the words dripping with arousal.

“Why?”

“I love being hypnotized. I love it.”

There was that twitch again. It was like when someone was sleeping; her leg kicked, and then the rest of her body followed suit, like a fast, one-person Mexican wave.

I really wish it didn’t make me as hard as it did.

“Do you remember what I told you last time I put you under?”

“No.”

Damn. I had been worried about this.

See, the book didn’t do a great job of explaining the subconscious. I’d tried to read up on it elsewhere, but it doesn’t seem to be something we really have a huge amount of knowledge about.

From what I could tell, the subconscious is like…it’s where dreams come from. You know how your dreams can affect your day, but they’re not really a _part_ of it? Like, you can remember them, sometimes, and you’ll be halfway through getting groceries or whatever, and then you’ll get a little flashback—“Oh hey this brand of tomato soup was in my dream” or whatever—but unless you think about it as soon as you wake up, you can’t remember your entire dream?

The subconscious is a little like that.

By talking directly to Lisa’s subconscious, I was able to implant thoughts and ideas. It couldn’t be anything that she was fundamentally opposed to or she’d snap out of it, but it wasn’t like I was giving instruction directly to a slave for her to to rattle off again later.

Instead, it was like I was dropping thoughts and ideas in the soup, and then mixing them until they disappeared from view. They were there, but…well, you can’t pour milk into a soup and then change your mind and take it out again later.

If you want to fix the soup, you have to stir in new ingredients.

“When you next masturbate,” I said, “you’re going to think about going on a date with Bradley Cooper.”

I’d expected a yes, maybe a moan and a twitch. My sister had been crushing on Bradley Cooper since Wet Hot American Summer, so I figured it wasn’t a huge stretch. Redirect her attention away from me, put it back on an old flame.

Should’ve been a slam dunk, right?

“No,” she said firmly. “I won’t.”

It took me a moment to see it—my sister was back up to level six.

Level _six_. When I’d been putting her under, she’d been at level six for no more than a few minutes—every time we hit level four, the process seemed to accelerate, and she’d be at level ten before we knew it, her mouth agape, her eyes glazed over, willing to accept anything I told her.

Well, almost anything.

It seemed that while she was fine being told that she had to cum while thinking about me (I assumed), she did not like my attempt to reverse it.

_You can’t make someone do something they don’t want to do._

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

What if that wicked little part of my brain had been right all along?

What if the reason I’d been able to warp my sister so easily was because…she wanted it?

For the next few minutes, we sat there in silence; my sister at level six, me trying to wrap my head around what had just happened.

Being told to get off thinking about Bradley Cooper had been enough to move my sister up four levels.

Being told to get off thinking about me had caused no issues whatsoever.

What.

The.

Fuck.

If my sister was into me, would it really be too wrong to take advantage of that? If it was what she wanted, what was wrong with hypnotizing her into my own personal sex slave? Images of Lisa flashed through my head: on her knees, busty, topless, worshipping my cock.

I couldn’t. Even if she did want it, it was still incest.

I couldn’t.

Could I?


End file.
